Propaganda
by MaidenChina
Summary: Artemis, age 17, is already 20 to the rest of the world and an undeniably late arrival to the dating scene. What happens when a reporter decides to pry into the details of the Fowl heir's life? Drabble. AH if you try hard enough.


Hi all, a note for my readers from the Maximum Ride fandom. I used to be known as Yukiko168; thank you all for subscribing to my works. It's been half a decade, and though I've matured little, it's going to be difficult for me to pick up my old pieces again simply due to the amount of time that's gone by. I plan on revisiting them at some point, but for now _Coupledom Troubles_ is indefinitely on hold. Thanks everyone, and I hope some of you will join me in my adventure into a beloved childhood series!

Disclaimer: I own not, I profit not, I know not.

Synopsis: Artemis is a late arrival to the dating scene. When a reporter starts prying into the details of his life, Fowl is blackmailed into doing a striptease to Bloodhound Gang's _The Bad Touch_.

kidding

i'm kidding

* * *

**Propaganda**

The sun shone in through the French windows of Artemis's bedroom, shattering into hundreds of colors on the crystal chandelier above his desk. They reflected onto the white cotton of his covers as he sat propped against pillows, reading the day's news on a lightweight tablet. With an absentminded flick of a remote by his bed, he closed the curtains halfway to reduce the glare on the screen.

Artemis always began his mornings by reading the news; so few people realized just how far an article or two a day went towards facilitating mental growth. Not to mention, being up-to-date on current events had brought Artemis many a business opportunity, as he was the type of person constantly thinking about the things he read. Today, however, Artemis was not just reading the news, he was _on_ it. Though that was hardly an unusual event, the article itself certainly was.

There was a quiet knock on the door. "Artemis, your parents request your presence for brunch. You agreed to spend this weekend with them." Butler opened the door to find Artemis staring intently at his tablet, the only indication that he had heard was a small nod in Butler's direction. "Problem, Artemis?"

"Butler, have you ever heard of the reporter, Kimberly Baker?" Artemis glanced up to see Butler looking at him quizzically, then returned his attention to the tablet. "She's been writing for the Independent for nearly a decade apparently, and yesterday deigned to publish an article on me."

"You did just apply for a patent on your new research on generic brand medication last week—"

Artemis shook his head as he scrolled through the article, then discarded the tablet on the covers as he stood and stretched. "No, apparently my new attempts at philanthropy are not interesting enough for the Independent's intended market." He left it at that as he exited towards the bathroom joining his room. Butler, blinking after the young man, walked over to the covers and picked up the cast-off tablet. Scrolling up, he took in bold headlines that read, "_Newly Twenty Fowl Heir's Bachelor Status Attracting Attention_".

Downstairs, the remainder of the Fowl family was already gathered at the dining room table, enjoying a cheerful brunch of potato farls, eggs, bacon rashers, white pudding, and gently sautéed portobello mushrooms.

"Artemis!" Beckett cried cheerfully, consequently flinging a spoonful of particularly runny egg his way. The egg didn't reach nearly far enough, and splatted on the hardwood floor next to his twin brother, much to Myles' annoyance and their parents' amusement.

"Nice of you to join us," said Artemis Senior, over the quarrelling of the twins. "Did you see your name on the news?"

"Ah, the reporter digging into my personal life. I will take care of it, Father."

"Pardon? I was talking about the Explorer's feature on your research in quinidine gluconate." There was a slight pause. "What were you talking about?"

Artemis coughed as he sat; he had seen that article but merely skimmed over it, deeming it just another factual commentary on his recent legal exploits. Obviously his father had not read as much news as he had, seeing as the paparazzi-piece had been several scrolls past the front page. "The Independent had a rival piece on me, not nearly as factually based though." Artemis left off there as he took a sip of orange juice. His father seemed about to ask a follow-up question when Angeline interrupted him.

"Arty dear, why are you all dressed up today? Didn't you agree to join us to the park?"

"This is how I always dress, Mum," started Artemis, about to add that he would go next weekend, before he realized that that was what he had said last weekend, and the weekend before that. Glancing over at the twins, he saw that they had stopped squabbling long enough to look over at Artemis innocently, Beckett with egg on his chin and Myles' face serious.

"I made soylent for the picnic," Myles said gravely, "there's a cup labeled for your mass. 312 grams will sustain you for six hours."

Artemis couldn't help feel fondness for his brother, so similar to himself at that age. He turned around and Beckett, not to be outdone, stole the moment to shout, "And I'm not wearing pants!"

There was silence as Artemis blinked, taken aback, and Angeline had to turn around for a moment, her shoulders shaking silently. When she was finally able to control herself, she gave Beckett a stern look so full of love that it was hardly reprimanding. "Why are you not wearing your pants, Beckett?"

"Because there was a bug!" Beckett declared, as if this explained everything.

"A bug."

"And I sit on it," finished Beckett, mimicking an explosion with his hands, then looking over at this mother cheerfully. "It's in the plant."

While his mother attempted to clarify if it was the underwear or the bug that was now entombed in one of the dozens of flower pots in Fowl Manor, Artemis finished eating and started stacking up his dishes. He was about to excuse himself from the dinner table when Myles caught his eye. "You don't want the food I made for you, Artemis?" Myles tried not to look crestfallen.

Artemis paused at that, feeling a twinge of remorse for trying to escape the table unnoticed. He opened his mouth to give an excuse, then closed it. There was no reason he couldn't do work while at the park, given that most of his technology connected directly to one of Foaly's satellites and provided internet access around in the world. "I never said I didn't want to go."

"Then you want to go?"

"Yes."

"And you can go?"

"Yes."

"So you will go."

"Yes, Myles."

Satisfied that he had closed every loophole for his brother, Myles went back to gnawing at a piece of bacon.

* * *

The day was warm and surprisingly not raining, a perfect day for a picnic with a worn red tablecloth and a couple of kites. Fowl Enterprises, having turned away from most of its criminal dealings within the past half-decade, was no longer a name that warranted 24-hours of stringent protective measures. The family was now able to pursue regular activities as they so desired, with only Artemis Junior's Butler hanging around back like a rather large uncle. A rather large uncle with rather large quantities of concealed weapons on his person driving a steel-enforced car, but just another family member, nonetheless.

Artemis Senior and Angeline claimed a spot for the picnic, setting down a large, white cotton cloth onto the grass — the Fowl family would never use a worn tablecloth, what were you thinking? In the meantime, Myles dug around in the large picnic basket as Butler held it steady, and Beckett dug around in the dirt having smeared a streak of mud down his shirt within moments of exiting the car.

There was a tug on his sleeve and Artemis turned around to see Myles handing him a purple-lidded sippy cup with an opaque, pale-colored liquid inside. "This is yours," Myles explained, pressing the cup in Artemis's hand. Behind his brother, Artemis could see a rainbow array of sippy cups lined up by descending size next to the tablecloth. Myles looked at Artemis expectantly.

"Thank you Myles, this is very impressive," Artemis said, ruffling Myles' hair. This was obviously the praise Myles was looking for, as he preened visibly. Myles had always sought after Artemis's compliments above all, due to his quick deduction that Artemis was one of few people who still had something left to teach him. Consequently, his older brother's praise was to be esteemed as rare and valuable, as opposed to the gushing accolades of how precocious he was that rained down on him from everyone outside his family.

"Myles plays a game," yelled Beckett, charging at Artemis and thoroughly shattering the moment. "Artemis too!" He dragged them away from the adults, displaying unnerving strength for a four-year-old.

"Don't let them get too far, Artemis!" Angeline called after them, shaking her head, before giving a helpless smile and cuddling up to her Timmy.

Beckett had decided on a game of hide-and-go-seek and marketed this game very efficiently to his brothers by shouting, "Tag Artemis, count to hundred and no peeking!" Then, grabbing Myles by an unwilling arm, he dashed away giggling.

"Don't hide too far away," called Artemis after them, about five seconds too late and 34 decibels too quiet for either twin to hear. He sighed as he dialed Butler. "Sorry Butler, but do you mind tracking down the twins and making sure they're okay while I pretend to look for them? Beckett will probably be in a tree, with Myles close by." When he got the affirmative, Artemis pocketed the cellphone and went to stand in the shade of a nearby tree, adjusting his tie that had been blown out by Beckett's antics. Where did his little brother get all of his energy? He acted more like Juliet as opposed to Myles or Artemis. Who knew the Fowl line was capable of engineering children like Beckett?

Artemis had a thought, and jotted down a note in the back of his head, an action as effective for him as writing something down was for normal people. _I should do some research about reprogenetics. Perhaps the People have some decent files not firmly entombed in rhetoric and false assumptions from the last century. I could always hack into the LEP's database_, mused Artemis, before pursing his lips. _Or call Foaly, or even Holly for that matter. There are more conventional ways of garnering information. If I am to embrace the law, I must first condition myself to think with the law._

Faint amusement rose in his eyes as he thought about that. _Now there's an undertaking. Submitting my knowledge to arbitrary limitations in order to acquiesce to the hopes of Holly or my mother._ Surely they realized that at least a quarter of his genius came from shattering expectations? After all, everyone could come to conclusions inside the box — it was thinking outside the scope of normal imaginations that really set Artemis apart. And one of the ways he did that was by removing subjective barriers, such as common law. It was simple, really.

Still lost in thought, he let a part of his mind wander as he considered new experiments in genetic manipulation. Tugging at his collar, Artemis frowned in annoyance. He resolved to pull out a few mohair suits as the days were starting to get uncomfortably warm for winter silk blends. On the other hand, perhaps it was time to go shopping again, as he had grown several inches within the past year and his tailor had already fully extended the hems of his old suits. Checking his slacks and discovering them to be falling nearly a quarter-inch too high for his tastes, Artemis grimaced. When he looked back up to resume his stream of consciousness, still frowning, he was met face-to-face with a tall blonde woman smiling at him expectantly.

"Do… you need something?" Artemis took a half-step back, that and the pause in his question being the only outward indication of the shock he had felt seeing someone so blatantly disregarding his personal space. How had she managed to approach him anyways? Artemis mentally chastised himself for allowing his mind to wander for so long and leaving himself open for attack. He wasn't in his study, for goodness sake!

"Artemis Fowl II, right?" Her voice was not unpleasant, but she spoke with a cadence that sounded off — too sure of herself, a confidence that had long since evolved into narcissism. Artemis recognized the tone as a remnant of a less-mature former self, which brought back memories of habits that he'd rather keep hidden, or at least stored away for a time when he could calmly ponder them without anyone around to see him cringe and grind his teeth in frustration. She took his silence as agreement, and continued, "I'm a journalist, you see, I write for newspapers."

_Yes, that is indeed the definition of a journalist_, Artemis thought, though he kept his expression neutral. "If you intended to speak with me, I apologize, as I'm currently occupied. However, if you'd like, you can schedule—"

"Oh no, Artemis, don't worry, I just wanted to chat! It won't take long," she smiled toothily, in what she probably envisioned to be a charming manner. Artemis realized that her cord probably didn't quite reach the outlet. "Kimberly Baker, by the way. You can call me Kim." She stuck her hand out.

Artemis glanced down at the proffered hand, his mind having already made the connection between this chipper woman and the article he had been reading that morning. The article, at its least accurate, had described Artemis as "charming and a wild playboy", and, at its most accurate, had described him as "clever, mysterious, and one of Ireland's most eligible bachelors" — that is to say, it had not been accurate at all. Artemis Fowl II was not merely _clever _by any stretch of the imagination.

Kim was apparently undeterred by Artemis's lack of response, and instead pulled back her hand and pulled out a pen. "Tell me about yourself, Artemis," she said eagerly, her fingers twitching as she dug for a notebook.

Artemis sighed, leaning up against the tree. "There is nothing I can say to you."

"Oh, I'm sure there is, there are plenty of things I don't know about you!"

"No, I do not believe you understand me, Kim. Talking is engaging in an exchange of information, and there is simply no place where our thoughts could possibly overlap enough to allow for conversation. At most, this would be two spoken monologues to deaf audience members."

Kim, who could not possibly have comprehended Artemis' point judging by the way she was cheerfully scribbling down his words, nodded eagerly. "Go on, Artemis, tell me about your thoughts. What do you like to do? What do you like to think about?"

"Is it solipsistic in here, or is that just me?"

"How is that spelled?"

At this point, Artemis could have put his face in his hands. Kim obviously had a bad case of verbal diarrhea but mental constipation, and he could not for the life of him picture how she had been able to keep stay at her job thus far. "Kim, if you continue to solicit me, I will have no choice but to influence the termination of your professional career."

"Don't be silly, I have tenure!"

"That word definitely does not mean what you think it means."

"So, Artemis, will you be taking over Fowl Enterprises soon?"

"No. Look, my time—"

"You seem like a very busy person. Can you recommend someone who can tell us more about you? Perhaps a childhood friend? To tell us about your school years, your relationships? Have you been in a relationship before?" The answer to this last query was obviously Kim's real goal, as she was positively salivating when she asked it.

Artemis nearly smiled. Friends. His thoughts flashed to the past, and the people who had helped him through everything. Enemies, acquaintances, allies, friends. People who had stood in solidarity through his nightmares, passed through fires of his making, and come out the other side burnished instead of burned. Bonds gained, and bonds lost. "There is no one you could get access to who could tell you anything more about me. Do not bother my family. You may ask Butler, but he does not tolerate stupidity. As for my relationships," Artemis hesitated, as in the back of his mind he saw a pair of mismatched eyes crinkle into an infectious grin, those rare occasions she was able to stop by for a visit. "I am perfectly content with my status quo."

Then, Artemis rose up to his full height, a good two inches taller than the blonde he spoke to. Frostily, he added, "The monologue is over."

As if right on cue, Artemis' phone buzzed. "Yes, Butler." Artemis dodged around the woman, who thankfully did not attempt to follow. "No, don't let them know you're watching. I'll be there soon."

* * *

That night, Artemis sat in the quiet of the darkening sky, each passing second like a heavy cloth curtain being pulled in another inch. Beckett and Myles had already been put to bed after being thoroughly exhausted from running around wildly for a good part of the day.

Artemis was waiting for word from Holly, who had promised a few weeks ago to call on a Saturday when she woke up. Sipping a cup of decaffeinated tea, he browsed the news lazily.

He scrolled past a headline, paused, and then scrolled back.

"_Fowl Heir Happily in Relationship with Family Butler: Interview with Artemis Junior_".

There was a clink as Artemis calmly set his cup back on its saucer. In the distance, a cricket chirped.

"How."

* * *

Final A/N: And a much-deserved shoutout goes to HolidayBoredom, who helped me think through several immaturities in my writing! Same goes to other readers; if y'all see anything wrong with my fics, or just want to talk, please do let me know!


End file.
